Child Prodigy
by Helga's Locket
Summary: One of PS118's students is recommended to a school for child prodigies...hm...Stinky? Helga? Harold? Phoebe?...Arnold?
1. Default Chapter

Child Prodigy  
Chapter One  
  
The bell rang and everything was normal in Mr. Simmons's fourth grade class. I surveyed the room, aware that Mr. Simmons hadn't come in yet. My fellow classmates were acting especially childish, and I have to admit I wasn't the most mature of them all myself. No, that position was filled by Arnold.  
I shot a spitball on the back of Arnold's head.   
"Hey! Cut it out, Helga!" he shouted, turning to glare at me, annoyed.  
"What?" I responded, acting innocent, shrugging my shoulders like I didn't know what he was talking about.  
"Class! Class, calm down now. Now, I have a "special" announcement to make." Mr. Simmons.  
"What's new," I muttered to Phoebe hastily.  
I rolled my eyes as I threw another spit wad at Arnold. He turned around and glared again. But now I had had enough, and instead directed my attention to Mr. Simmons.   
"Now, I have received some exciting news about one of my special students! It has been decided that this person will be sent to a special school to develop his or her special gift. I regret to inform you that this student will have to go to school somewhere else, a school for child prodigies."  
There was a gasp at the mention of a child prodigy. I scoffed, now knowing who he was referring to. Phoebe. A twinge of sadness came over me at the thought of my best and only friend leaving, but I didn't dare express it.   
Stinky scratched his head, confused. "What the heck is a progidy?"  
I rolled my eyes, very disturbed. Okay, guess it's not Stinky.  
"How much you wanna bet it's Phoebe?" I said, a little sneer in my tone.  
Mr. Simmons frowned at me, but said nothing.   
Phoebe, my best friend, just sort of blushed bashfully. She's a shy, quiet girl, with a very fine mind. Once she was promoted to the sixth grade, but ended up coming back because she didn't get along well with her new class.  
Arnold turned around to disagree, or as he would put it, "be open to other possibilities". I laughed coldly at this sudden ray of hope and optimism. I like Arnold and all, but his corny optimism and all around "good guy" act was a joke. Okay, so, it wasn't an act--believe it or not, the guy actually believes this crapola.  
Me? Well, I'm basically everything Arnold isn't--or to put it simply, his opposite. If he's an optimist I'm a pessimist. He's a nice guy; I'm a bully.  
But, despite all of our differences, we also have a lot in common. Of course, he doesn't know that, but then again, he doesn't know a whole lot about me. I don't exactly make it easy for him.  
All this time and energy put into describing him and our relations to one another, one might wonder if maybe I gave him a particular amount of thought. One would be correct on that assumption.  
I sneered at Arnold, and he got the hint.  
"So, are you gonna tell us who it is or keep their thumbs twitching?" I demanded of Mr. Simmons, rather hastily.  
He gave me a funny look before replying.  
"Actually, Helga," he said, suddenly calm and solemn, "this person will be regarded as anonymous until I have spoken with him or her. If he or she decides to accept our offer, we will release the student's name, but until a decision is made, it will not be released."  
Now, suddenly interested, I interrogated the matter. "Why would this person decline?"  
Mr. Simmons hesitated, uncertain. "Well, you see, not only will he or she be transferred to another school, but the school is in another city, in another state… This school just doesn't provide the tools necessary to really develop the particular talent this person possesses. It would be hard to part with friends and classmates. Also, any other reason for not attending would have to be taken into consideration."  
I narrowed my eyes, now not quite so sure of my earlier assumption.  
Particular talent? What had he meant by that? Phoebe was smart, that wasn't really a talent. It's something she works hard and studies for, enjoys, and it comes naturally and easily to her. Maybe it wasn't Phoebe.  
But if it wasn't Phoebe, then who?  
I scanned the room. Stinky? Nah, the only talents he really possessed were farming and rolling sleeping bags as tightly as they were capable of being rolled. Not much intellectual stimulation there.   
Harold? Yeah, right. What talent would he have to develop? Eating fifty Mr. Fudgies in a row? No, it couldn't be Harold.  
Names ran through my mind, each one was denied. Finally I came to the last on the list…Arnold?  
I gazed upon my beloved, exploring the possibility. Arnold was smart; maybe he wasn't a genius, but he was smart. I guess it could be Arnold, but he didn't really have a talent that would need to be looked into…did he?  
Grief followed this realization. If it was Arnold, and he had to move away… I couldn't bear it!   
I prayed it wasn't Arnold. Or Phoebe, or…really, when I came to think about it, I couldn't stand to part with any of them.   
The bell rang, signaling recess. The kids ran out of the room, and the sound of the bell woke me from my haze. As I got up to leave, Mr. Simmons looked up from his paperwork, and motioned for me to stay.  
"Helga, could I have a moment of your time?" he inquired.  
I gulped, hoping I wasn't in trouble. The thought really hadn't crossed my mind…  
"Helga, I've done a lot of consulting with Mr. Wartz, the other schools, your parents--and all that's left now is to propose the question. Helga, would you be interested in attending a school for child prodigies? Everyone seems to be open enough to the idea, although your father did have to take a while to consider the financial matters, but now I need your approval."  
I stared at him, disbelieving. "Just what kind of school are we talking about here? Why me? I mean I'm really not gifted at anything and-"  
He cut me off, insisting silence for him to speak.  
"Helga, you are a very talented young poet, and I think that if you delved into the arts and explored your gift, you could really progress…"  
My jaw dropped. My POETRY?!!! He'd shown these people my poetry?! I was speechless.  
"An arts and literature school for child prodigies?" I scoffed, reading the brochure he'd handed me. "You want me to go to an ART SCHOOL?!! OH, no. NO way. There is NO way I'm going to go to some fancy smancy art school!"  
  
Chapter Two  
  
*A bus is seen, then it shows Helga sitting inside of it, slouching in her chair and scowling*  
"I CAN'T believe I'm going to go to some fancy smancy art school," I growled.  
Why had I agreed to this again?  
"Well, Helga, although I will miss you terribly, I must confess this will help you to develop your skills, which you will one day prosper from and perhaps even make a career of. I can't deprive you of such an opportunity for my own selfishness and…I really think you should go."  
Phoebe was sitting next to me, dazzled by the journey that lay before her best friend. I could tell she was trying hard not to make a scene, to fight back the tears. For me. Phoebe didn't want me to know how much this was hurting her, because she cared about me and wanted me to do what was best for me, to grow as a person.  
Our friendship was being put through the ultimate test. And so far Phoebe had passed. Which was no surprise to me.  
I sighed, not really wanting to take this time to mention the other person that would be hard to leave…  
"But Phoebe, what about…" I lowered by voice, suddenly speaking very solemnly, "ice cream?"  
Phoebe gasped, suddenly the realization hit her just how much heartache this was going to cause me. But before she could speak, I continued.  
"I mean ice cream is my muse, it's my life, it's everything I thrive my existence on, it's all I have in the world!" I suddenly shouted, getting some very odd looks before quietly sitting back into my seat. "Besides you, that is," I added with a smile for my best friend.  
Arnold and Phoebe were the only people in the world that cared about me or gave me the time of day. Okay, so maybe Arnold didn't show it as much anymore, but every once in a while he'll come around and save the day…usually just when I need it most. Phoebe, well, Phoebe is always there for me, and even though I usually don't take the time to do it, she's always open to talk to. She is the definition of a best friend.   
I wish I could say the same for myself.  
Arnold turned around in his seat to face me, Gerald following his example.   
"You're the child prodigy Mr. Simmons was talking about?" Arnold asked, just as confused, or possibly more, than I had been.   
I scowled at him, knowing how thrilled he must be at the news of my leaving.   
"Yeah, and I'm sure you're just giddy at the mention of my moving away. Anyway, I'm still kind of mad at Simmons for recommending me in the first place, but I really don't have much of a choice. Bob has seized the opportunity to get me out of the house and out of his life…not a bad deal, actually, but I'm not exactly jumping for joy here."  
I'd lost my scornful tone near mid-sentence, softening a bit as the realization hit. I was leaving in a week, maybe less depending on how eager Bob was at getting rid of me.   
The kids at school wouldn't care. In fact, I'm sure they'll all be delighted to know that I'm leaving.  
Throughout all of this, Gerald kept a blank face, not really concerned with the conversation. Not really caring that I was leaving. Of course I didn't expect him to care. Although it came as a surprise to me to know that he wasn't ecstatic to hear the news.  
Arnold's curiosity had yet to wane. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could ask the question, I interrupted. I knew what was going on in his head already.  
"Mr. Simmons wants me to 'delve into the arts'. He says, 'I'm a very talented young poet,' and something about developing my 'special gift'. I'm really not into the idea, but who knows, maybe I'll like it." I shrugged, pushing it aside. "Besides, at least it'll get me away from Miriam and Big Bob."  
Arnold just sat there for a while, seeing if I had anything to say, and at the same time trying to come up with something for himself. Eventually he just sighed and turned around, slightly bothered.   
I heard Gerald whisper to Arnold. "Man, Arnold, this has to be the greatest day of our lives. Helga Pataki is leaving."  
I fought back the urge to pound him, and just growled under my breath. I never heard Arnold agree.  
  
Stay tuned for Chapter Three!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 3

Chapter Three  
  
"Miriam! Get the girl, we're going to be late!" I heard Big Bob yell downstairs.  
Groaning, I packed the rest of my things. It had been a tough week, the only kids that weren't overjoyed by my departure were Phoebe and Arnold.  
Yesterday had been my last day of attending PS118. I don't know why it was such a rush to get me out of there--I mean, it usually takes longer than a week, right? I guess everyone was just excited to be rid of me.  
Helga, the bully. Helga, the mean, cold, miserable child. I don't blame them for wanting me out of their lives. I'm Helga the Horrible.  
Miriam opened the door. "Helga? Are you…uh…ready yet?" she asked, slurring the words depressively.  
I sighed as I finished putting the rest of my books into my suitcase. I would be miles away from Arnold, and I couldn't even take my shrine to remember him by. I clutched my locket, depending on it. My locket would be all I had.  
"Yes, Miriam. I'm done packing," I stated, emotionless.  
"Okay, dear," she said, closing the door.  
I let out a deep sigh and fell upon my bed, holding a pillow for comfort. Tears threatening to fall. I closed my eyes tightly, forcing the sad thoughts away from my mind. Trying to calm my emotions. I couldn't cry, not now. There would be plenty of time for that later.  
I rested my head in my pillow, groaning at my misfortune. Forced to part with the two dearest me…my love never to know the depths of my feelings for him. Still remaining clueless.   
Maybe that was a good thing. I mean, he didn't have to know, not now. It would be too awkward. Maybe the next time I saw him I'd have the courage to confess, but right now just wasn't the right time. This was going to be a difficult journey.  
"Arnold, I'm sorry…" I whimpered into my pillow, wallowing in my self-pity. Remorse for my childish behavior.  
Just as I was closing my eyes, trying to get my mind off of everything, relieve myself of the stress, I was interrupted by an abrasive shout.  
"OLGA! GET DOWN HERE, WE'RE GONNA BE LATE FOR THE PLANE!" Big Bob yelled from downstairs. Angry.  
Growling, I responded and grabbed my bags. "I'm COMING!"  
Wiping away the beginnings of a tear, I opened the door and trudged through, hauling my suitcases all the while. Not an easy task, trust me. But if I didn't do it, no one would.  
I looked out the window of the car as we passed by the old neighborhood. Seeing old faces. I rested my head in my hand, depressed. A bunch of my friends were playing baseball at Gerald's Field, and a wave of immense sorrow came over me. I should be out there.  
Arnold was up to bat. He was hunched over, ready for the kill. Harold was mocking him, as usual, but this time I wasn't there to shut him up. The first pitch, Arnold swung, and missed. Second pitch…strike. Third pitch…he's out.  
Sinking his head, Arnold walked back to the bench, Gerald trying to make him feel better about the strike out. I saw all of this while passing by in the car. I turned my head to Bob, who was driving with determination, and decided to give it a shot.  
"Hey, uh B-Dad-uh…do you think we could make a quick stop? I was wanting to say goodbye to someone…"  
"WHAT? We're already late as it is, and you want to waste more time to say GOODBYE to someone? You've had all week for goodbyes!"  
I sank my head now, looking down at my feet. This was what I had expected. Bob wasn't the most compassionate father to me. Olga, well, that's a different story. But me? No, I was nothing, just a malicious little girl, a problem child…  
I was silent for the rest of the ride.  



	3. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Five years. Five years and still I hadn't returned to my old town. Perhaps I'd lost the desire to. Or, more accurately suggested, I didn't want to have to confront the old faces of my past. Especially Arnold.   
I looked upon the nine year old boy's face, the object of my desire, and sighed. Had it come to this? Was this my only connection to him, now that he was gone?  
No, not gone. Arnold is still alive, still within my grasp. And yet, I hadn't even attempted to return to him. What was holding me back?  
I glimpsed at my reflection in the mirror, and with a shudder, I remembered. *Oh yeah,* I thought harshly to myself. *That.*  
I hadn't blossomed into a beautiful young woman. I still had my unibrow. Still had the less-than-perfect figure. Of course, now I was "maturing" slightly, but I emphasize the slightly part.  
If I returned, there would be no, "HELGA? No, I don't believe it--you're too beautiful to be Helga!" remarks. Instead, they would take one look at me, and wish they hadn't. Recall a time when I had once been their personal tormentor.   
I wasn't fat. In fact, quite the contrary. Upon my coming here, I'd refused to eat for two weeks. A nibble here, a nibble there, sure, but I'd had no appetite. I felt no hunger upon reaching this horrid destination. Leaving Arnold was the worst thing that ever happened to me.   
And now I was forcing myself to never return.  
If I was to return, the least I could do was make a stunning entrance. Otherwise, it would hardly be worth it. I scowled at my reflection, hating what I woke up to every morning. Had I changed much, really? No.  
To me I would always be the same miserable, ugly girl with the one eyebrow. An artist, a poet? I would scoff at anyone that so much as mentioned it to me. Just because I was in an art school, didn't mean I was an artist. I hated this school.  
Had it really been five years? Five years of crying myself to sleep at night, five years of clasping my locket like my life depended on it? Yes, yes it had. And yet, somehow, it seemed no time had passed at all. The lack of human contact, the isolation, left time inevitable.  
Big Bob and Miriam were still living in the same house, in the same neighborhood, in the same town as always. I assumed Olga had returned, and whether she was living there or not, they were probably back home setting the example of a perfect family, excluding me. Trying to forget there was ever a Helga G. Pataki to begin with.  
Helga? Helga who? Oh, THAT Helga. No, don't know her. Never heard of her.  
I gripped my locket tightly, my only source of inspiration. Arnold. Every now and then, I would wonder what had become of him. If he ever got over Lila, or if they were in one another's arms just as I was asking the question. What he looked like, who his friends were, what his hobbies were, what his grade point average was…  
I laughed at myself for wasting my time thinking about it. Who cares? Whatever he's doing, he's doing it without me. Arnold probably hasn't even given me a single thought since the day I left. Except maybe joyous at my absence.  
Sometimes I would wonder what became of my best friend. Had Phoebe made new friends? Did she now have a new best friend? A boyfriend? How many colleges did she have begging for her to accept their scholarships?   
I sighed. I didn't care what the answers to the questions were, I would still be proud of her, anyway. I hoped she'd moved on, made a new best friend, and forgotten about me. I didn't want her to be upset in the first place.  
Why had I come, anyway?  
It didn't matter now; I was here, and I was never going back. That's just the way it is…  



	4. Chapter Five

Prepare to be humored-Arnold has strangely similar thoughts as Helga. If you compare Chapters 4 and 5, the endings are oddly alike in many ways. I suppose I did that on purpose-but honestly, I don't really think about what I'm writing when I'm doing it. I sort of fall into character, and forget that it's just a story and that I'm not that character. So anyway, read on, and enjoy! This chapter is from Arnold's POV…I think we all needed to get inside his football head a little.  
  
Chapter 5  
  
It was the first day of school, and I was standing outside, searching through the kids to find someone I recognized. I found several students from PS118 gathered in a group, separate from the others. Still too shy to move on, I suppose.  
I joined my old friends and scanned their faces. Yes, I knew who they were. The majority of the old gang was there, chatting away about whatever.   
Helga still hadn't come back. I don't know why, but every year I found myself searching for her, and finding only disappointment. I wanted Helga to be there, to fill that missing whole I always felt. Nothing was quite the same without her. No one would ever admit this, but it changed them.  
I miss Helga. I'm not going to deny it. I liked her, in some weird, strange, freaky way. Disturbing, really, but I knew that Helga wasn't so bad deep down. Once she'd even told me she thought I was okay, and since then, I've thought she was pretty okay, too.  
And yet it was still so odd that I found myself looking for her every year on the first day of school. That hope that would linger all throughout the day, the hope that she would burst into the room at the last minute. But every year it was the same. Helga wasn't there.  
Gerald doesn't know who I am anymore. He thinks I'm crazy and I should just forget about it. I noticed his stare as I looked among the faces, scanning the head of every kid that stood outside the school that morning.  
I saw him roll his eyes and shake his head. "That is one sick boy," he commented.  
Gerald and I are still best friends. We've both changed a bit, but mostly we're still the same as we've always been. Now Phoebe…ever since Helga left, she's been either alone or with me and Gerald.   
Gerald is still confused as to why she's still upset that Helga left, but I don't think he knows her the way Phoebe does. Every now and then he'll speak his mind and Phoebe will just say, in a disturbed, upset, and oddly angry tone, "You didn't know her like I did, okay?"  
And she'd hang on that for a while, looking like she wanted to say more, but then she'd close her mouth and walk away, silent.  
I always wonder what it is she wants to say afterwards, but I never bring myself to ask her. I get the feeling she wouldn't tell me, anyway. Every time she says this, she'll glance at me, and it sends a chill down my spine. She would do this quickly, discretely, so that only she and I would notice.  
Phoebe hasn't heard from Helga in years. She wrote her for a while, but soon her letters would wane, until finally they came to a complete halt. Helga never left an address on the envelope, so Phoebe nor anyone else could ever contact her.  
Helga's parents like to pretend they never had another daughter. Whenever I knock on their door, trying to get some sort of connection with Helga, her father will answer and upon seeing me, slam the door in my face.  
Phoebe has tried this, also, with strangely similar results. Although, when Phoebe does it, she at least is invited in, but when she asks about Helga they either ignore the comment, or kick her out.  
Eventually we've both given up trying. There's really nothing else we can do. I cling to the hope that one day, she'll come back. That one day I'll finally see her again, and our little group will be complete. An odd bunch, maybe, but without her it's like an important piece to the puzzle is missing.  
Lila moved away in the fifth grade. But for some reason, I really didn't mind as much as I should have. I wasn't immensely devastated or anything. Sometime between summer and fall I'd gotten over her. I know she's not the one for me, and unlike most 9-year-olds, I already knew who "the one" was.  
Well, sort of. Okay, I didn't know "who" she was, but I've met her and gotten to know her, and that's all I really need to know. She had posed as Cecile, my French pen pal, and set up a date with me. I later found out she wasn't the real Cecile when who showed up but the original. She said she couldn't tell me who she was, and basically ran away, leaving me clueless.  
And because of that I've decided I'm not going to get romantically involved with girls. None of them seem to hold my interest anymore, anyway. I mean, I'll occasionally glance or flirt, but they just aren't what I'm looking for. I suppose I'll never know who the Cecile imposture was, but it's nice to think about.  
Funny that I should still think about that now, five years later. She's probably long gone. Like Helga.  
I sighed and hung my head, giving up. Maybe I should just throw in the towel. Helga's not coming back and that's all there is to it. Anyway, she's probably forgotten all about me by now. Probably hasn't even thought about me since she got there, except maybe happy to be away from me.  
Sometimes I wonder what she's doing. What her hobbies are, who her friends are, what her GPA is… I don't know why I bother thinking about it, I'll never find out. I just have to face it--Helga's never coming back, and that's all there is to it. That's the way it is.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 6

Okay, and now for Phoebe's POV…What's REALLY happened to Phoebe since Helga left? How much affect has it taken on her? And why isn't she with Gerald? Who are her friends now? What IS her GPA? How many colleges DOES she have after her? What's going on in her head? And what's this about CURLY?!!! Read and find out! More chapters to come, stay tuned…  
  
Chapter 6  
  
It had been five years since she left. Helga. My best friend.  
Had I made a new best friend? No. Of course not. No one could ever replace Helga. She was irreplaceable.  
I didn't want her to know how much it pains me to live knowing she's not within my reach. Knowing I'll probably never see her again. I never wanted her to know how devastating her leave was for me. I hid those feelings as best I could, and after she left, I was a mess.  
I occasionally hang out with Arnold and Gerald, but I know it's mostly sympathy that got me there. Usually, I feel secluded in this little group, as Arnold and Gerald are both of the male gender and have been best friends for as long as Helga and I have. I'm not really "part of" their group--just there.  
Otherwise I'm a loner. An outcast, and quite frankly, a geek. When Helga was around, I hadn't been labeled a geek. It was one of the few perks of being Helga's best friend.   
Although I can't deny my attraction to Gerald, it sometimes bothers me how ignorant and uncaring he can be when it comes to Helga. I'll occasionally erupt in my emotions, and catch myself before I say too much. I can't help but feel a certain resentment for Arnold as well. He's still as naïve as ever, still clueless about Helga's undying love for him. At least, I hope it was undying. That was a part of her that made her so interesting--without her obsession, she's just dull and hollow.  
My grades have dropped in the last few months. Actually, it was subtle at first, starting just a few years ago, but now my depression had gotten the best of me.  
I know I'm smart. I'm very intelligent, and could make the grade if I really wanted to. But now I've gotten past the point of caring. What did it matter now what my grades were? What college I attended, what career I would have, how much money I would make?  
None of it all mattered, in the end. I'd lost the desire to learn, to grow, and to prosper as a human being, because without someone to share it with, it's hardly worth it.  
I wish Helga would come back. Maybe our friendship wouldn't be the same as it had been so many years ago, but at least this hole in my heart would finally be filled. Maybe if I saw her again, everything would be okay.  
In my geek hood and insanity, I've come to bond with Curly, an old classmate of mine from PS118. Before I had regarded him as weird, insane, and unpredictable. Now I saw him as a human being: normal feelings, anxieties, and reactions. Sure, he would lose it now and then, but it was all a part of what made him so interesting.  
I guess Curly is my friend now. I don't really know why, when I really think about it, because we were never especially close before. I suppose it's just because I can relate to him more now, and the changes I've had to undergo have led me to an odd connection with him I could never really explain.  
Everything was changing, and it was so weird now. Sometimes I can't believe who I've become, and I feel so ashamed with myself. How could I let this get to me so much? Why was this loss controlling my life?  
I've attempted numerous times to contact Helga, but there seems to be only one way, and it's not working. Since Helga never left an address with her letters, which I've come to believe was intended that way, the only other method was a to ask her parents.  
After getting thrown out so many times for even mentioning her name, I've come to the conclusion that her parents are moving on and trying to forget about their daughter. I don't know why; I mean, they were the ones that sent her to that art school in the first place, right? I would have assumed they'd be proud of her, admiring her as they did Olga. But to my astonishment, they could have cared less. In fact, I got the impression they were about as clueless as to Helga's location as I was.  
I think Helga wants it that way. I don't know why, or for what reason she would want to shut us out of her life, but it disturbed me. I couldn't help but worry and wonder.  
I don't think Helga wants to be found. For me or anyone else in her past to see her again. I can't imagine why she would feel that way, but whatever the reason, I resented her for it. Didn't she realize how much she was hurting me by pushing me away? Didn't she know?  
Maybe she felt the same way. Maybe that's why she was pushing me away.  
I miss Helga…  



	6. Chapter 7

Alright, back to Helga again. I doubt this is how it is for real child prodigies, but hey, do I look like a child prodigy to you? NO! So how am I supposed to know what it's like? I DON'T! Yeesh. Hehe…okay, well, here's the story, hope you like. Oh and, don't ask why her principal despises her too much; with her attitude, her grief, and her talent, you could assume he resents her, and is possibly jealous of her gift, but I leave it to the imagination. Anyway, I'm gonna write the chapter now…  
  
Chapter 7  
  
I lay upon my bed, staring at the ceiling in contemplation. Okay, so, I'm miserable here, does that mean I won't be back there? No. I don't want things to change, even if it is for the better. As long as things stay the same, I'm comfortable.  
I glared at all of the crumpled up papers next to the garbage can. And the garbage can, which was now filled to the top of various poems I'd tossed.  
Why couldn't I write? What had changed? Has my inspiration run dry?  
I sighed, and plopped a pillow over my head, not desiring to ever take it off. Maybe I'll get lucky and suffocate.  
Unfortunately, that would have to wait, because a very loud knocking could be heard outside my door.  
"WHAT?!" I screamed, annoyed.  
Of course, I knew what they wanted.  
"You need to come to my office! NOW!" the voice ordered harshly.  
I gulped, knowing my time had come. And I wasn't ready for it.  
Slowly, I dragged myself out of bed and headed for his office. When I opened the door, a slightly cross Mr. MacFarlin sat in his chair, eyeing me sharply.  
"Please come in," he said, his words polite but his tone rude.  
I brought myself to the chair across from him, nervous. A slight smile crossed his face, but not a happy one. He was going to enjoy this.  
"As you know, Helga, we make it a habit to check for students who don't seem to be meeting their potentials," he stated, his voice firm. He was looking for a sign from me, trying to make me fidget. I'd already come to grips with what was to happen. So, disappointed, he continued. "Helga, you understand why you're here, don't you? I think we've given you quite enough time on your assignments, and yet your teachers say they've received nothing from you in weeks."  
I laughed at him for ever thinking he could bring me down. Obviously, he didn't know Helga Pataki.  
"And you want what, my permission? One word and my bags are packed, that'll be the last you see of me. I know how much you're enjoying this, so just say it already."  
I'm good at figuring people out. When you grow up around them, it's fairly easy. Well, for me, anyway. I know that not all people are sweet as pie. In fact it is through my experience that I can conclude it is to be quite the opposite.  
He shifted in his seat, realizing that he wasn't going to get me. "Helga, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We want you out of here by tomorrow, we're getting a new student and all the other rooms are occupied."  
I scoffed, claiming my victory.  
"I can do you better. I'll start packing now. I'll be out of here in an hour."  
And with that, I slammed the door, and went to my room. There I started packing, wondering where I was going to stay.  
I started with my clothes. It was so funny, after all of these years, I still wore those pink dresses. I even wore the ribbon, although of course, I hid it under a cap now, embarrassed to reveal it. A symbol of my undying love, I suppose, that I just couldn't bear to part with.  
I didn't forget to include my various journals, each filled with poems I'd written throughout the years. I shook my head, sighed, and finished packing the rest of my items.  
I grabbed the doorknob, daring to turn it, and gave my room one last glance before finally turning my back on it. I clutched my locket for a moment of grief, and then proceeded out the door with my suitcases.  
"Goodbye forever," I whispered to the building.  
And with that, I was gone, and on my way…somewhere…  
  
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Oh, BTW, just cuz she's leaving doesn't mean she's going back to the old neighborhood. Remember, she's not into the idea. Anyway, just thought I'd point that out to you before continuing. Haven't made the next chapter as I'm writing this, so I really can't tell you anything about it. But it's rather interesting that Helga would be kicked out just as she was deciding to never go back "home", so, we'll see…hm…I wonder where she's gonna go, where she's gonna stay, how she'll make money…I mean, she's only 15, and I doubt she'll go to her parents cuz, well, they'll slam a door in her face. Lessee…  



	7. Chapter 8

In this chapter, Helga is walking the streets of an unfamiliar neighborhood, trying to decide where to go next. There's something she doesn't realize though, and it's not revealed in this chapter. Read on, you'll find out later…  
Chapter 8  
  
It was cold out, as I trudged through the wind and rain, suitcases at hand, no jacket to keep me warm. I watched as couples walked hand in hand, an umbrella to shield them from the rain, happy to be together and in love. I sneered, hatred and jealousy burning within me. How I despised them.  
An immense sadness overwhelmed me, loneliness and yearning once again surfacing. I would never be so lucky, never be that happy, beautiful woman walking beside the one she loved. Did I deserve that, really? No. Of course not.  
And yet, the desire was still set aflame. Still lingering inside of me, still haunting my every thought and emotion.  
I wanted what they had. And it pained me to know that I would never have it.  
I was still in the same city, trying to decide where to go from here. I mean, where was I supposed to go? A 15-year-old girl with no money, no home, and no job. No family, as far as my parents were concerned, and my friends had probably long forgotten me.  
Yes, it's a sad, sad life I live.  
I shudder to think where I'll end up if I stay here. Will I be one of those women standing at the corners? A bum, sitting on the side of the road with a little bucket for donations? Is that how I was to turn out?  
And yet, my pride had gotten the best of me. I couldn't go back, back to my old life and my old home and my old friends. Not like they'd take me back, anyway. I mean, why would they?  
If I went back there, would I become the bully I used to be again? Would I revert to bossing everyone around, threatening and insulting, dominating and overpowering? Or, worse, would I turn soft, and become a shy, quiet girl who hides among the shadows, only coming out when darkness reigned? Where would I stay, if I did return? Not something I'd have to worry about, though, because that simply was not going to happen.  
It's not that I didn't want to see them again, it's just… I guess I just don't want them to see me.  
Ah, well, thinking about it won't matter. I'd already decided.  
Hadn't I?  
I shivered from the chill, the wind suddenly becoming harsher. Where would I find shelter tonight? Who could I turn to, in a city where I knew no one?   
I continued to walk, not knowing my destination. Simply walking, my subconscious mind taking me wherever it led me. I folded my arms across my chest, hoping to find some warmth there, but instead pulling away with the same chill as before.  
I didn't recognize these houses, this neighborhood or these people. I was once again alone, cold and hungry. How I craved to find the comfort of a home. To not be deprived of this hunger, to find shelter and most importantly, the love and affection I so desired.  
Maybe I didn't know where I was going. But wherever I was dragging myself to, I hoped there would be something there for me. I'd had too many disappointments, letting myself down like that would only destroy the last remnants of hope left over in my tortured soul.  
One day, perhaps I'll see Arnold again. Not now. Right now, he's the last person I wanted to see. I want to forget about Arnold.  
Nope, no way, I am NOT going to see Arnold again.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 9

Okay, well, I was thinking it would turn out a little different, but I'm happy with the results of this chapter. Gotta keep writing more…Lol, it's funny, when I first started writing this fic, I'd intended for Helga to stay 9, and go to the place and somehow get out of it and come back to school…but, somewhere along the line, imagination got the best of me and here I am *sigh*. Okay, well, not gonna summarize it, just keep reading…Oh, yeah, as you can see by the first line, trying to keep with the ole HA humor…heh…  
  
Chapter 9  
  
"I CAN'T believe I'm going to see Arnold again," I grumbled under my breath as I stood before his very stoop, shivering from the wind's wrath.   
The rain continued to pour, and a dark and gloomy sky remained above. Would this be my eternal doom? My fate to be lonely, deprived, cold, and afraid? I shook my head as I looked into the dark gray clouds, disappointed.  
"It figures," I spat, talking to myself.   
It was so ironic; and yet, was it really such a surprise? No, indeed it was not. I'd half-expected to end up here.  
But why Arnold's? Why did it have to be Arnold's house? Why not Phoebe, or…well, why not Phoebe?  
I sighed and buried my head into my hands, deeply frustrated. I tried to turn back, regretting I'd ever come, but of course I was too late. The door opened and there he stood.  
I scanned his face for emotions. A puzzled Arnold stood, obviously confused and astonished, mouth gaping at this sight. I'm sure I was the last person he expected to end up here, right now.   
Arnold was speechless. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come out. I sighed heavily and decided to start the conversation, still uncomfortable but apparently more able than Arnold.  
"Okay, Arnold, here's the deal," I spat, matter-of-factly, hoping my vulnerable appearance didn't strike him as awry. "I've been tossed out, got no money, no family as far as I'm concerned, no job, and no friends. Sorry to bother you, but you're the only person in town I can count on. So what do ya say, can ya spare me a room? One night and then I'm outta here."  
Arnold was still awe-struck, not quite absorbing yet. Not comprehending.  
He was just staring at me, eyes wide with horror. Was I that much of a sight? Did he hate me that much? What I that terrible?  
These questions swamped my brain, and I tried to shake them off, concentrating on the moment.  
I sighed heavily, turning around to walk away, getting the picture. "I see. Okay, I'll just go then. Thanks again, Arnold. Nice seein ya, football head."  
I turned my head to give him my last farewell and my fake smile turned into a disturbed frown.  
Arnold was now frozen, eyes widening even more--if that was possible--as he continued to stare at me. And then, finally, he uttered his first words.  
"H-H-Helga?" he stammered, his voice bewildered.  
I rolled my eyes at him, turning around and stopping on the sidewalk to speak. "Well doi, Einstein! Who'd ya think it was?" I shuffled my feet for a moment, then turned back around and continued my path. "Well, have a nice life, bucko!" I hollered, not turning back.  
If I turned around, I knew I would never head that direction again. I so feared seeing Arnold again, and now that I had…oh, now I remembered why.  
The emotions had spilled again, my heart was ready to explode. I clutched my locket tightly and kept my feet on track. Destination: anywhere but here.  
I continued on my path, now aware of a presence behind me. I flinched as I turned to face my stalker, wanting to gash his eyes out with my bare hands. And then, slightly surprised, I was face to face with Arnold. The boy of my childhood fancies, the one of whom my heart had always so longed for. I wanted to both pound him and embrace him--I couldn't decide between the two.  
Instead, I growled and clenched my fists, screaming at the top of my lungs, startling Arnold. Did I care? Of course not.  
"What IS it with you?! Can't you just NOT care for ONE FREAKING SECOND OF YOUR LIFE?! Does your concern have to ALWAYS shine through?! HOW can I get it into that STUPID football head of yours that I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU!"  
I panted, exhausted from my previous eruption, but still not done ranting. Arnold stood, indifferent, just staring and listening.  
"I didn't want to come back in the first place! In fact, this is the LAST place I wanted to be right now! Is it MY fault they kicked me out of that cruddy school?! Well, yes it is, but is it MY fault I have no where else to go and no one else to turn to?!!"  
Okay, NOW I was done, and feeling slightly embarrassed by my emotional outburst. But Arnold didn't seem to mind at all. Instead, he wrapped his jacket around me, smiled warmly, and guided me with an arm around my shoulders back to the boarding house.  
Inside, I jumped for joy and lashed out in fury. I kept both to myself.  
As soon as he brought me in, I cried. I couldn't fight the tears anymore, couldn't hold back the pain. So, oblivious to the fact that anyone else was there, I let it out, probably the first time I'd ever really done that. Ever.  



	9. Chapter 10

Alright, the anxiously awaited Chapter 10! Wow 10 chapters! Okay, well, here is Arnold's POV as Helga came to his doorstep. What happened after Helga broke down, etc. How he felt about the entire situation. Read on…  
  
Chapter 10  
It wasn't the best day of my life. There was a dark sky as the storm came in, and it was cold out. I was stuck in the boarding house with a bunch of lunatics. I had planned on playing ball with Gerald, but due to the rain we had to cancel our plans. Thus began my miserable day.  
It was boring, despite the insanity. When you grow up around psychos, you get used to it and it becomes normal to you. In a house full of loons, I've always been the most mature, sometimes taking on adult responsibilities that I would find difficult to carry out as a result of my young age.  
I was in the kitchen, drinking some hot cocoa, when there was a knock on the door. I was surprised that anyone would be out right now, much less someone knocking on my door. I waited for one of the boarders to get it, later realizing they were all too lazy. So, slightly annoyed, I got up and answered it.  
When I opened the door, I was stunned. I mean, speechless. I'm still not quite sure why. I thought I knew that face, this girl that stood before me, thought she looked familiar, but I just couldn't place her.  
I could smack myself for being too stupid to realize. Too dense to remember. But it had been five years, and she had changed some.  
I hadn't really absorbed what she was saying until after she had said it and begun to turn away. Then, I snapped out of it. What was wrong with me?  
She'd called me football head. Not the same way she'd done in fourth grade, but in a calm, sad tone. Man, she had changed.  
Of course, some things stayed the same. Her sarcastic, critical and sometimes harsh tone remained.  
"H-Helga?" I stuttered, absolutely stunned.  
My childhood tormentor and bully had grown up, matured slightly, and ended up on my doorstep. It was now that I realized she was soaked, and held in her hands suitcases. Helga had no jacket, and no umbrella, and I could imagine how could she must be.  
Kindly, I chased after her, not wanting her to leave. Somehow I knew that if she left, she would never come back. And for some reason I didn't want her to leave.  
When Helga noticed I was right behind her, she turned. At first her face showed shock and annoyance, but then the annoyance took over and turned into anger.  
"What IS it with you? Can't you just NOT care for ONE FREAKING SECOND OF YOUR LIFE?! Does your concern have to ALWAYS shine through?! HOW can I get it into that STUPID football head of yours that I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU!"  
I should have been hurt, should have flinched, should have said something in response, but I just stood there patiently. Helga was panting now, her anger still obvious.   
"I didn't want to come back in the first place! In fact, this is the LAST place I wanted to be right now! Is it MY fault they kicked me out of that cruddy school?! Well, yes it is, but is it MY fault I have no where else to go and no one else to turn to?!!"  
After the anger passed, a blush emerged. Helga stood, trying to hide behind her anger, not wanting to let me see the vulnerability she'd come to me with. Not wanting me to know she needed help.  
I didn't say anything to this, didn't take offense at all. Instead I smiled as I wrapped my jacket around her for warmth and steered her back to the boarding house. She seemed so fragile now, so frail, like she would break apart at any second.  
I don't know what I expected, but nothing like what happened. As soon as we entered the house and got settled into a couch, she cried. I was nothing short of shocked. I've never seen Helga cry before, never once has she let her guard down in front of me. And now, right in front of me, she buried her head in her hands and lost herself in the tears.  
I put an arm around her for comfort, knowing there was little else I could do for her right now. I wanted to know, wanted to ask the questions, but it would have to wait. I knew something terrible had happened, wanted to know, to help. What could I do?  
Why had she come to me, to my doorstep? I mean, she could have gone to Phoebe's at least, and yet she hadn't, at least as far as I could tell. She'd ended up here.  
Helga lifted her head and, still crying, wrapped her arms around me. It was such an odd moment, right then. Not something I'd expected. Then again, I hadn't expected her to arrive at my doorstep. Hadn't expected her to break down crying.   
So, still unsure of what to do, I hugged her warmly, too, lost in the embrace. I could feel her heart rate slow down, and her breathing calm down. Maybe that's all she needs.  
I smiled slightly. I never would have thought I'd end up here. Or that Helga would, as far as that goes. I mean, it's funny how much one decision, one move, will affect a person. How much it will affect everyone around them.   
So much had changed since she left. And now, here I was. How had I gotten here? It seemed like just yesterday we were nine years old, playing a baseball game at Gerald's Field, or sitting in the classroom groaning as Mr. Simmons talked to the class. Just yesterday I found out Helga was moving.  
Why had she come back? Why was she crying?  
I had so many questions, and I doubted they would ever be answered.  
Why did she come to ME?  



End file.
